


Rather the Eternal Stars Die

by athousandwinds



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 05:10:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athousandwinds/pseuds/athousandwinds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ariadne is not quite alone on Naxos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rather the Eternal Stars Die

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CyberMathWitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberMathWitch/gifts).



Now, when dawn had turned to dusk, Ariadne left the rocks of storm-tossed Naxos and came inland, with her comely feet bare and light on the dusty road. The sky was dark and she was much unhappy, but she prayed to Poseidon, who she had so lately betrayed, and eventually she came to a small cottage by the roadside. The windows were lit and Ariadne sank to her knees and gave her thanks to the god. When she knocked, the door was answered quickly.

"Ill-starred Ariadne," said the poor woman, "you are welcome in my house."

The Princess of Crete fell and hugged the poor woman's knees and so the poor woman took her by the hands and led her to the table, which even at this late hour still had hot food and plate laid for a guest. Ariadne was seated there and fed with the best of the poor woman's meat and bread. After the meal, they went together to the shrine to pray to Poseidon, giving thanks for the food. They drank a cup of wine together, too, and then there came a knock at the door.

"My son is here," said the poor woman and indeed her son entered, young and strong and handsome. Dark-eyed Ariadne kissed his hands and he kissed hers, welcoming her as a guest in his house. He gave her his bed that night and slept in the stable, while abandoned Ariadne lay awake thinking of her fate, until sweet-natured Sleep took pity on her and closed her eyes. But even then she found no relief, for she dreamt of her ignominious future, the traitor princess, the stupid slut. Cow-brained Ariadne, open-legged Ariadne, the cuckold's daughter cuckolded. When she wakened, there were tears on her pillow.

The poor mother and her son insisted she stay with them and so Ariadne spent her days spinning or preserving food. The son was always gentle with his mother, who screwed up her eyes against the sun, and he smiled often upon Ariadne.

One night, Ariadne lay in the son's bed and listened to the sound of music in the hills, the soft piping of the flute, the hum of a lyre's strings. She left the bed, she left the house and she fled into the hills, towards the music which sang wild in her blood. She ran for miles, desperate, until she finally came unto the god's presence.

"Dance, Ariadne," said bright Dionysus, laughing with his maenads. She took his outstretched and danced on her comely feet until they were bruised and bleeding. He caught her to him as she stumbled and swung her so that she never touched the ground, flying, dancing with the maenads in the air.

Dark-eyed Ariadne woke in her own bed, and thought it was a dream. The son smiled when he saw her at breakfast and she did not speak of the wonders the god had brought her to.

At a village party, the son brought her a cup of wine. Ariadne took it and prayed silently to Dionysus that he might bless this revel and the people who had been so kind to her. She danced with the son again and again, and clenched her hands round his, wishing the night would not end. Even twice-born Dionysus could not stave off the dawn, but then nor did he want to. At dawn the son caught Ariadne's hands again and pulled her away from the dance.

"What is it?" she asked, but the son only smiled and they ran together, away from the others, into the lonely hillside. Once more Ariadne heard the singing pipe, but now she only held the son close and kissed him harder.

"Purest Ariadne," he whispered into her mouth and she dug her fingers into the strong arms of Dionysus the liberator and felt her soul to be cleansed. When he made love to her, it was slow and long; he traced patterns in wine across her belly and licked it away, he kissed her breasts, her cunt, and when he finally entered her she welcomed him gladly.

"I'll make you Star-crowned Ariadne," he promised afterwards, to make up for all the sadness of her life, and she kissed him again.

* * *

Drink with me ancient wines  
And learn with me new stars,  
Then spit sweet on my tongue  
For time is ever ours.  
And we'll learn it once more,  
We'll sail my wine-dark shore.  
Forget your yesterday,  
For tomorrow is here.


End file.
